


choke

by poppyharris



Series: enigmas [3]
Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: Gen, drowning on your own blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: why can’t dylan just die?
Series: enigmas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042629
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	choke

**Author's Note:**

> yea i hate myself too you don’t have to say it  
> apologies for disappearing on yall, i realised i have no motivation and i hate myself

dylan was choking. drowning. his vision was supposed to be going black, but his eyes had been splattered with blood. who’s? his? maybe eric’s. maybe some kid’s. he wanted to lift his head, to see if eric had survived. 

“eric!” came out more as a gurgle, as a whine. he could feel it burning his throat, his cheek suddenly feeling wet. he was crying, what the fuck? he should be fucking dead. god he felt dead. his head ached, and then suddenly, as dylan tried to blink, he was in agony.

the gurgling became louder as he tried to scream for help. but who would help him? he’d terrorised these people for an hour, killed their friends. why would anyone come and help him? god it fucking burned. liquid that dylan didn’t want to identify was filling his mouth, causing him to splutter as he groaned. he tried to blink, his eyes felt so full, so attacked. his fingers itched as he tried to wrap his hand around his tec, to end it. 

he’d never been in a worst kind of hell. even on his darkest nights, staring out the window and aching to just throw himself onto the concrete below, he’d never been in more pain. blood trickled from… somewhere. why wasn’t he dead?

he could only hear himself. he could only see red. and yet, he burned. dylan felt something involuntary, what the fuck? he felt his foot collide with something. kicking something away from him. was it eric’s corpse? a cop? a good samartian? whatever it was, dylan didn’t want it near him.

he felt a cool breeze waft over his face, the gentle touch of the april breeze making him let out a loud, wet sob. god, why couldn’t he just bleed out? why didn’t he feel like he was slipping away?

the gurgling came back, he was trying to say something, but the words simply mingled in with his blood and aggravated his throat. he tried to move his arm, but there was something cold pressed against it. it wasn’t his shotgun. how long has it been? why did he feel like his death was never going to end?

was eric dead? had eric died a merciful death? why was dylan the one subjected to this hell? why did eric just get to blow out the back of his fucking skull and die instantly? why could dylan have just… died. 

it’s all he’d ever wanted. fuck, eric didn’t even want to die! the fucking psychopathic asshole. dying was dylan’s thing.

god what was he doing? cursing his best and only friend (and possibly recently deceased, don’t speak ill of the dead, dyl) just because he’d got to die first?

he choked again. the blood was creeping up his throat now. breathing was almost impossible. but yet he kept doing it. he kept twitching, and groaning. he didn’t cry out for anyone.

dylan was alone. and that would be his final thought.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> song: choke by poppy


End file.
